


Lesser of Two Evils

by sryr



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Horror, Codependency, Descriptions of Major Burns, Desolation!Tim, Edging, Guilt, M/M, Murder, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Self-Sacrifice, Sibling Incest, Strap-Ons, Trans Danny Stoker, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26718160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sryr/pseuds/sryr
Summary: Danny has a new budding hobby and calls Tim to try it out with him. Things don't exactly end the way he meant them to or for one of them in flames.
Relationships: Danny Stoker/Tim Stoker
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Lesser of Two Evils

**Author's Note:**

> i've been sitting on a plethora of desolation tim ideas and have been wanting also to write something more substantially dannytim for a while so i ended up combining some. i sure do love self-sacrificing, over-protective tim who has accidentally spoiled his danny. this was fun to write and once again, sorry tim.

“You joined a  _ cult _ ?”

“No, no look I know what it sounds like, but it’s not like that. They’re just a real passionate bunch. Going to teach me fire juggling and stuff.” Danny’s excited voice prattles out of the receiver, and Tim smiles to himself hearing it. He shifts his phone to stay perched between his shoulder and ear still listening as he pokes at a takeaway Styrofoam container of pad thai. 

“And you want me to come with?”

“You used to love setting off fireworks. It’s not entirely the same, but—”

“Love’s a bit of a stretch, but fine, fine, I’ll come to just one.”

His brother perks up at that and offers a date and time. One handed, Tim jots it down in a messy scrawl before needing to end the call—his lunch break was almost over, and as nice as it was to get an update on his little brother’s spontaneous and erratic life, other responsibilities were calling.

There’s a high likelihood whatever new interest Danny’s found hasn’t been enough to grab any of his other friends, and so, of course, he turned to getting Tim involved. It should bother him a little, but he’s long since accepted his role of giving in, ever incapable of saying no. These days it was hard enough getting ahold of him so really Tim should be thankful for the opportunity. This was a pretty harmless request anyway. Tim still thought it sounded sketchy and had full intentions of trying to research the group before they actually met up, but in that sense, it was also what made refusing difficult.

His brother can get stubborn when fixated. Dead set on wanting a certain outcome and working towards it right up until he got bored and moved on. It could be admirable when honing a skill, but scary when like now, it was something reckless and borderline dangerous. For that reason, Tim can’t ignore it and pretend like he isn’t worried as much as he’ll joke around otherwise.

However, almost all his attempts to find anything on them come up with next to nothing. Not even a website for their group or anything, which wasn’t entirely weird. It isn’t unthinkable it was just a group of friends Danny had come across and seamlessly joined. Tim’s just kicking himself for not remembering exactly where Danny said he met these folks. If he calls to ask about it, the suspicion he’d pretended to bury would resurface and his brother might not take that well.

And as for the place Danny asked they meet at… that just adds an extra dimension of wariness. All Tim can find on the place makes it seem like an old building that, once upon a time, was used for housing now left in disrepair. Were they being led to an abandoned building and set up as suspects of arson? It’s incriminating enough given what they’d supposedly be doing. Not all his brother’s hobbies in the past have been completely legal. Frowning, he’s fighting temptation on calling Danny back again to confirm the address is correct and make sure he’s actually been there. Danny wasn’t naïve or stupid—clearly this was either a mistake, or these people did in fact own the building and didn’t bother fixing it up for whatever antics they got up to.

His head is starting to hurt, unsure if he needs to play the trusting and supportive or uncool older brother card. All this solidifies for Tim is that bright and early he’s pacing his flat and triple checking his belongings. For a fifth time, he’s talked himself out of leaving a worrying message with a friend in case something happens to either of them, knowing he’d feel ridiculous if nothing actually happened. Not to mention, the resulting questions would be difficult even for him to simply laugh off.

Sure enough, when he does need to bite the bullet and leave, he eventually makes his way to the place after a relatively short ride on the tube and Danny’s outside smiling and waving at him as if they aren’t about to do something dangerous.

He loves his brother too much to point out this fact or grab his arm and drag him away from the cursed, run down building next to them.

“This really the place?” Tim makes himself ask, as if he hadn’t been scouring the image from what angles he could get off Google Maps just the evening prior.

“Oh, don’t give me that look; really they’re fine. It’ll be fun.” His brother swings an arm around his shoulder and guides him the rest of the way inside. He shoves him off just as playfully as they’re greeted by what looks like an ancient and worn down receptionist area, but half the furniture that should be there is missing or broken. It’s dark inside the building with an ever present sense of dust lingering in the air. It almost makes Tim sneeze, but the sensation is cut off by a pit of dread forming from how ominously a door at the far end of the entrance opens.

“They normally this dramatic?” Tim whispers against his better judgment. If someone is nearby and out to hurt them it’s not like he’s giving away their position based on that door opening, but the barely disguised insult could be considered goading. Unfortunately, Tim wasn’t very good at keeping his mouth shut at times.

“Yes, sometimes,” his brother’s nervous response is quick and defensive. Yet, it’s clear from his voice and similar hesitance to step forward that he might be stretching the truth a little. With a sigh, all Tim can bring himself to do is throw Danny an incredulous look, knowing they weren’t backing out now. He has a desperate urge to reach out for him again and make his little brother flee, but something tells him doing so would only ensure Danny would come back alone.

Better to be there and do what he can than find out later the worst has happened, right?

When they enter, the room is large and gives the impression like it may have once been used as a ballroom or as a cafeteria with missing tables to sit at. Its vast emptiness tries and fails to seem inviting by the rows of candles gracing the sides of the room, perched and eerie.

Definitely comes off more cultish than a group of ‘friendly’ pyromaniacs with an enthusiasm for teaching tricks. He’s about to joke about it again, until he notices that Danny is no longer standing beside him or trying to pretend he’s at ease with everything they’re seeing. His shoulders are tense now, glancing around.

He steps further in, and Tim stares frozen, watching as his brother calls out names of presumably members he’d met beforehand. The shadows dancing because of the flames, as well as Danny’s yelling, completely disguise the footsteps behind Tim until suddenly he’s spluttering feeling a thick, slippery liquid being poured over him. The sensation caught him off guard, but between the smell of it and the surface of the floor beneath his feet now coated in the same substance, he’s unable to twist around quickly without risk of falling over.

Tim belatedly makes the connection it must be oil the same moment the door they came through slams shut, further covering the room in darkness. He turns towards the door drawn by the sound, but unable to see anything from squeezing his eyes shut to protect them. It wouldn’t do much good given how dim the lighting is now anyway.

Laughter echoes seemingly all around them as the desolate location reverberates the noise.

Shortly after, he hears a gasp nearby and in his panic realizes with the state of things Tim’s completely lost his brother. He lifts a hand up to try and wipe his face, unsuccessfully struggling to get his eyes open. In the barely there light from the surrounding candles, he finally manages to see a blurry figure in the distance, no doubt talking to Danny.

Was it someone he recognized? It didn’t explain the laugh, unless this was some elaborate prank? As irritating as that would be, Tim is sincerely hoping it’s true so he can at least have a laugh about it later compared to the blind fear coursing through him that one of them is about to be murdered.

“Well go on, didn’t you want to learn? If you feed the fire, it will be yours. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Upon hearing those words, any notion of this being a joke definitely leave Tim. He’s cleared his eyes enough that as he catches Danny’s eyes, he looks at him with regret and fear stark against the flames flickering so close.

“All it needs is a little spark,” the voice prompts again, seemingly amused by Danny’s hesitation.

When they say feed the flames, evidently they did mean arson of some kind, but for some reason, it’s him they’re trying to convince Danny to set alight instead of the building like he’d expected. The oil they poured on him and lighter he can make out in his brother’s hands explain as much.

There are more questions he wants to shout about why they’re doing this, or if Danny knew anything about it. Tim doesn’t have it in him to be angry, or even disappointed. Is he scared? Does he really believe his brother would do this? If he meant he could walk free, it’s fine. If Danny has no other option, it’s _fine_.

“Unless your brother wants it instead? Got enough anger in you that’s for sure.”

Another voice somewhere to the side of them shares this observation, and Tim’s gaze is dragged away from Danny and to the direction he thinks they are watching from. The fear he feels morphs into the white, hot anger they refer to, but he doesn’t know how they would know such a thing. Did Danny talk about it before? Why would he?

He’s afraid to admit what he already knows deep down about the situation, but it’s hard not to accept it given how Danny keeps looking at him guilty and scared. Someone has to die in this place, and Tim reluctantly accepts it will have to be him, won’t it?

“This isn’t your fault,” he says, sharing one final look with Danny before he steps towards him and wrenches the lighter out of his shocked hands. He can tell from his brother’s expression he wants to argue, wants to step into that pit of noxious, slick oil Tim’s been coated in and take back the lighter. Tim doesn’t give him the chance.

“I love you.” He smiles before stepping back and flicking the top off. He takes one last breath as he thumbs the metal, letting the lighter fall from his hand once it ignites.

He’s even more lightheaded as the oxygen around him gets sucked up into the sudden flame, the oil quickly feeding the flames until all at once, the fire hits him. It hurts, and he doesn’t process he’s screaming until noise comes back to him as a sensation. All he can feel is the heat on his skin, the melting of flesh, and the charring of what once was his body.

There was never a moment in his mind where he considered killing Danny instead. Still, Tim doesn’t want to die. He didn’t want Danny to have to kill him—to have to _live_ with that, but he still doesn’t want to die.

Oh, god, will they even let him go once it’s over? Was this for nothing?

It can’t be. He can’t let it be. Tim refuses to let his little brother die in a place like this. His limbs hardly want to move with the way they scream and crack and peel, but he’s moving closest to where he thinks one of those voices who trapped them here came from.

He can hear his brother crying and screaming for him, but he can’t think over the pain, over the anger. Over the voice he hears in the flames. No, he really can’t let himself die here.

Blindly, he reaches out, fury matching his pain as he’s met with that same laughter which egged them on. He eventually feels what he thinks is an arm, and words which started out taunting quickly are engulfed in a scream.

Now that he can feel it for himself, it’s unsettling and otherworldly the way this creature’s body simply melts under his touch. A slippery, waxy substance that easily accepts the fire stretching into it. There’s a sick thrill of satisfaction that crawls up what’s left of his charred body from hearing it cry in agony. Adrenaline, fear and rage make it easy to ignore the disgust and pain that clamor for his attention as he can feel at least one of their captors slowly catch fire with him.

What’s stranger is he feels that same wax meld itself from his bones, slowly growing out from where his muscle has chipped away into ash. It occurs to him all too late what he had to choose in order to live. At just what they meant when they said the fire could be yours.

He has to be like them. Danny would live though, and that’s all he cares about.

The flame doesn’t really stop—he doesn’t feel capable of that, per se, but it does simmer down like it’s now contained within him instead of surrounding him. His legs feel solidified now, as if the fire merely carved something out of him to make space for the wax that’s taken its place. Molded and shaped in the form of a strange human shaped candle. Trapped just underneath is the heat, and the sudden and intense expectation of how easy it would be to let it out. How direly, he has always had a similar kind of heat in him desperate to escape.

There is nothing left but a pile of melted wax when he recognizes the fire is gone. A path is open to the door out, and Tim looks around simply relieved to see Danny alive. Shaken, but human and _alive_.

“Tim?”

He looks at him, afraid and hesitant—as if what he’s looking at is something that only resembles his brother and is housing a different being entirely.

“Let’s get out of here, Danny.”

His brother doesn’t move. The disgust Tim had no room for is worming its way back out, but he didn’t have a choice. Did he? He’d make the same choice no matter what if it meant Danny was okay, but can he deny that a part of him doesn’t hate this new change?

It felt good to destroy something, didn’t it?

“Please, we can talk outside, just, please.” He pushes again, holding a hand out, which Danny on habit reaches for until he stops centimeters away from actually touching his fingers. His hand drops, but he does finally move towards the door. Tim exhales a shaky breath and tries not to take it personally. He follows after him and tries to focus on making sure they aren’t followed and that there are no more traps waiting.

Neither of them give the rest of the building much of a second thought once they’re out, heading back to the station and glad to simply be back out in the light of day. His clothes somehow survived the fire, but still reek of oil, his skin clean of the liquid and unsettlingly smoother than before. Tim keeps unintentionally touching his own hands and arms struggling to connect that he’d been on fire not twenty minutes prior. That he should be dead. That he’d just killed something. Someone? It was a monster, but now so was he. 

His brother still hasn’t said a word, face unnaturally serious. He knows this is normally the part where he’d crack a joke, try and change the subject to ease what’s upset Danny, but he doesn’t know what to do when the subject of it is centered on him. It must be anyway, seeing as his brother can hardly stand to look at him. Somehow, that manages to hurt more than the fire.

Soon enough, they’ve reached the stop denoting where Tim needs to get off, and he’s a little shocked Danny is moving to leave with him. It isn’t until they’re inside, and Tim has triple checked the door is locked—not that he thinks it would help much against beings capable of just burning the building down—does he speak.

“Danny…”

Tim doesn’t actually know what there is to say. Surely, a lot, he has questions that’s for sure. As he looks at his little brother though, his heart is squeezing painfully in his chest because the stoicism Danny had held for the outside world crumbles under the privacy of Tim’s flat.

“Why did you do that?” His voice shakes, and finally, he grabs Tim’s hand. “W-What even happened, what _are_ you?”

“I don’t know,” Tim answers low, instinct taking over as he pulls Danny closer to him and takes the hug he’d been wanting since figuring out himself that his humanity is gone. “I just wanted you safe.”

His brother smacks his arm, but doesn’t pull away.

“Think about yourself! You were right, why aren’t you rubbing it in? I… I nearly got us killed! I nearly…”

Tim feels them start to drift towards the floor before Danny processes he’s dragging them down, and manages to ease the fall a little before his back is hitting the door and barely managing to keep his brother from crumpling further. He nudges him into the crook of his shoulder, and is distracted momentarily trying to remember how long it’s been since he’s held him like this. When was the last time he’d even seen him this upset?

“It would have been okay,” Tim murmurs by his ear. Danny shakes his head, and looks up at him.

“No, no you can’t.” His hand moves from where it’d been gripping his arm, to his chest. “You can’t say that. I’d never.”

Tim smiles at him, as much as he hated to think it, for just a moment he’d doubted him. It felt good to hear otherwise.

“Then you know why I did it. I don’t know what I am now, but we’re alive.” He doesn’t have the confidence to reiterate how important it was that at least Danny was alive. He’s here and close, and a part of him hates how easily his brain is compartmentalizing the rest of the day somewhere else and focusing on how it led to this. Absentmindedly, he’s rubbing his brother’s back, and trying to take as much of this as he’s allowed before Danny inevitably pulls away.

He’s still looking at him despite it all, and there’s too much in his expression for Tim to take in. Relief, guilt, love, but also beneath all those, lingering and threading an unwanted connection to somewhere new inside him is fear. Unconsciously, his hand moves to cup his brother’s face.

“Tim?” Danny blinks at him, confusion taking over and bit by bit, fear. He’s bringing his face closer, he wants it, wants him, wants to destroy him? No, that’d—

“Tim! Your hands, they’re—”

His brother shouting interrupts it and Tim wretches his hand away horrified to see the barest imprint of his fingers and palm on Danny’s cheek. He glances down at his hand, seeing the wax he still wasn’t used to slightly distorted, and it takes effort to pull his fingers apart and let them remold themselves. It’s entirely inhuman and he’s having trouble meeting his brother’s gaze who no doubt watched the whole process—his little brother who he just burned.

He wants to withdraw and push Danny away, but with the position they’re in all that’s behind him is the door. As to why Danny hasn’t leapt away himself, Tim is terrified to ask.

In his anguish, he’s missed his brother speaking. Slowly, much cooler fingers at holding his face and dragging it to look toward Danny.

“I’m fine. I’m okay. It was just… warm. All of you feels warmer.”

“I’m…” Sorry? A monster? Tim doesn’t know which he intended to say. He’s disgusted with himself for so many reasons, and worst of all, with Danny this close he’s having an even worse idea come to mind.

If his little brother won’t be scared off with him like this, would he keep his distance if Tim broke their relationship entirely? If he revealed how much he really loved him?

He doesn’t want to hurt him. Burning him wouldn’t feel good as much as the fire under his skin tells him it would—but kissing him as bittersweet an ending as it may be sounds much better. Danny’s already so close. All he has to do is lean forward just a bit more.

His brother is looking at him, waiting for him to finish speaking. He doesn’t end up saying either of the things that came to mind, instead taking a shaky breath before pushing their foreheads together.

“Forgive me,” Tim whispers, pressing their lips together.

He embraces the action with the same fervor as when he’d dropped the lighter. There is no coming back from this, a combustion which he’s resigned himself to as the lesser of two evils. He loved his brother, and if it meant burning this bridge and accepting his full disgust, he’d rather that then make him live with the monster Tim has turned into.

But Tim doesn’t expect to be kissed back. The ferocity of Danny holding his face trying futilely to push them closer, pressing himself against Tim in an attempt to mesh their bodies into one. He blinks rapidly, resisting it and pushing him back as much as he can then fighting himself on what he should be doing it.

The impulse to drag him closer, turn this into more is so strong because Danny reciprocated, but that’s a problem in itself.

“We—We can’t do this, I—”

“No, you don’t,” Danny counters, trying to get close again. He doesn’t know what his brother means by that, whether he sees behind Tim’s desperation and understands it, or if he’s consumed by his own desire, which Tim didn’t know how to accept at all. His feelings for Danny had long since been a secret he agonized over, hating himself for and repeatedly denying their existence. The notion that those feelings were returned is even worse, a twisted part of Tim wondering if that too was somehow his fault.

“Years, _years_ , I’ve been putting this—this distance for absolutely no reason?” Danny’s voice is almost hysterical and Tim’s having difficulty connecting his words and their relevance to the conversation. A conversation he still hasn’t quite processed is happening. Tim almost wants to believe the reality of what happened earlier is just catching up with Danny, and that’s why he sounds the way he does, but a flicker of terrible hope is taking the words offered to him.

He can’t want this. He knew that when he was seventeen and answering embarrassing questions his brother asked about normal things older brothers should be able to talk to their siblings about. He’s sick and he caused this somehow. He must have.

His self-depreciation is broken by the strain he needs to make in order to hear Danny, his tone dipping lower.

“Y’know I… I thought about that when you dropped the lighter. How I never said anything.”

“Because there shouldn’t _be_ anything. This isn’t normal. You’re a good looking bloke, you shouldn’t be here with me.” Now Tim is yelling, wanting this time to push Danny away for good, but between the both of them he’s the stronger one. ‘ _Just another lovely thing to admire about his brother_ ,’ he thinks, feeling that same hysteria spiking himself.

“Then why did you kiss me?”

Tim doesn’t know how to answer. Doesn’t know how to admit to his brother the depth of his self-hatred and the lengths he’d go for him to ensure that he’d never put him in danger again.

“Tim, why did you kiss me? What would you do if I kissed you again right now?”

Danny’s face is so still close, and he can feel the heat of his breath. Swallowing the air of his exhales, struggling to stop the fire threatening to burst from his skin.

“I love you.” Danny’s sincerity burns and Tim doesn’t have it in him to try pushing him away again. He isn’t able to deny his brother anything, and as much as there’s a twisted rotten part of him knowing he’s supposed to say no here, he doesn’t stop him.

When he isn’t met with resistance, Danny reconnects them physically, turning that shy and chaste kiss into something fierce and possessive. He holds Tim as if he’ll slip away the moment they part, like if he pushes just a little harder he can nestle himself under his brother’s skin.

“How long have you…?” Danny prompts when they part for air, panting slightly.

Tim knows exactly when, but doesn’t want to say. Doesn’t want to admit to Danny just how long he’s looked at him less than innocently. An admission of that kind feels even worse despite the fact they were kissing moments ago.

“A long time,” Tim breathes instead, hesitantly leaning in to press their lips together again. He’s never been this meek with his partners, but Danny isn’t like anyone else. It was easier to throw himself into sex with another person he could forget about, seeping the intimacy and pleasure the act gave as a bitter distraction for something he’d told himself he’d never have.

Yet, Danny is here and telling him, urging him with a desperate yes. He moans into his mouth, the sound pitching louder as he feels Danny’s teeth on his lips. A quick kiss to the painful indents they leave, before his mouth is trailing down, latching itself to his neck and sucking even harder marks. All he can do is rut up embarrassingly and hang on.

It’s only the notion that they’re still on the floor and by the door, which draws Tim away from the moment. He’s sure his neighbors are already sick of the noises that sometimes escape his apartment, but even he knows it’s bad class to do something like this right by the door. Anyone in the hallway could hear it no doubt.

Danny stays firmly attached to his neck when Tim tries to push him off. Weakly and out of breath, he tries to put into words why he’s calling for a pause, but he isn’t sure how much of it makes sense. His brother manages to at least understand the word bed and pieces that much together. Placing one final kiss to his neck, now mottled with hickeys from the feel of it, he shuffles back and up, holding out a hand to help Tim up.

He’s still clutching his hand as they make their way to Tim’s bedroom. The sheets were in disarray from how he’d left them that morning, and in a delirium, he’s forced to remember why that’s so odd and how once again they nearly died today. How does Danny feel touching him? Does it feel strange that his skin isn’t quite right anymore? How was the lingering scent of oil not bothering him?

Danny lets out a yelp and pulls away from him, startling Tim from his thoughts. He’d somehow done it again, and he’s cursing himself for already breaking the promise he’d made to not hurt him anymore.

“Tim, are you alright? It wasn’t that bad, c’mon.” Danny is looking at him with concern he doesn’t deserve again.

“It barely hurt; you’re not going to hurt me. Not anymore than I’d want anyway,” Danny insists, attempting to flirt at the end, but Tim’s too caught up in guilt. He hasn’t the faintest idea what triggers his loss of control—if he’s really controlling it at all. The fire and heat feels overwhelming under his skin, itching and simmering to torch something else. Insatiable.

His brother closes in on him again, not letting him withdraw. That’s overwhelming too in its own way, being looked at like this. Danny reserves these stares for his interests usually. The sparkle and hell bent obsession normally reflected in whatever story or activity he’s explaining to Tim is instead solely focused on him, hungry and desperate. Tim swallows, a little desperate himself.

“Okay,” he concedes, afraid, but trusting and wanting. Danny is reachable at long last and all it took was losing his humanity. Hasn’t he given enough? He almost lost him, but as temperamental as the fire feels it’s his, and for that reason alone, it shouldn’t be able to do anything he doesn’t want. He’d sooner torch himself all over again than potentially set Danny on fire.

His brother is happy about the shift, pleased about finally getting to do what he wants. His fingers reach out and make short work of Tim’s clothes, only taking an extra moment to futilely rub off excess oil on his own jeans before giving orders.

“Wait for me on the bed and don’t touch yourself.”

Tim has no complaints about that, watching his brother briskly move in the direction of his bathroom as he makes his way over to the bed. He distracts himself with fluffing pillows, and moving sheets, pointlessly fixating on whether the oil in his hair is going to stain his pillowcase and how he’s going to have to wash it all anyway. None of it works in trying to ignore how hard he is and the sense that this shouldn’t be happening wanting to hammer its way into his skull.

Danny comes back quickly, and hunches by Tim’s dresser.

“You snoop,” Tim playfully reprimands, but all his brother does is look over his shoulder and roll his eyes. With one final stop at the nightstand by the bed, Danny returns, laying out a harness, strap and lube next to where Tim is lounging on the bed waiting for him.

He’s surprised to see Danny is still mostly clothed, though he has shrugged off his jacket. His eyes trace the lines of muscle against his shirt, embarrassed at how often he’s done that in the past, but now able to openly do so knowing his brother is aware of it.

Danny holds his stare as he undoes the button of his trousers, shuffling out of them and similarly, removing his shirt and throwing it in the same pile a bit impatiently. Tim isn’t given long to admire the sight due to that impatience, as his brother works at straddling him and kissing him again. He doesn’t linger by his mouth or neck, merely giving short pecks before he’s focused on Tim’s chest, playing with his nipples to see if he enjoys it. The sensation is one he’s not used to as his partners often are focused elsewhere, but aside from the novelty, it isn’t particularly stimulating so Danny abandons it after he’s had his fill. The kisses continue south, trailing over his stomach and Tim inhales sharply as teeth find the slight dip by his right hipbone. It’s sensitive there, and he’s too aware of his close Danny’s mouth is to something else threatening to bump his cheek.

He chuckles, bringing a hand up to tease along Tim’s thighs. All at once, the desperation bleeding from each and every one of Danny’s actions is stilled as reality sinks in and a more enthralling notion of how Tim sounds when pleading replaces it. How he feels squirming under his touch with precum dripping off his cock and yearning plastered across his face.

“Danny,” Tim begs, not specifying anything in particular because he’s content with anything and everything his brother wants from him. He’d give him the world if he asked for it, and with the way he stares at him, Tim feels like his body is equal enough in weight.

“Love you,” he answers back, before his mouth widens and swallows Tim whole. The drastic shifts in how his brother has been handling him leave him ill prepared for the attention he gets now. Heat is pooling lower and he feels himself manage to control it, temper it still under his skin as there is no destruction or misery here, even if he may hate himself for this later. Danny hollows his cheeks and Tim’s overwhelmed by the tight, wet heat and the tongue sliding along his dick. It’s embarrassing how close he already feels, with Danny having barely done anything than lightly tease him prior to this, but it feels too good with his mouth on him, fingers playing just below and occasionally teasing his rim.

He’s getting increasingly noisier and as he feels close, Danny pulls off him. Tim’s hard and squirming, unable to do anything as Danny smiles at him so innocently.

“Fuck, please, please, Danny I—”

His brother shushes him, and reaches for the bottle of lube he’d left on the bed, unceremoniously popping the cap open. He coats three of his fingers, taking his time only stopping to give Tim a pointed look when his rutting is just a bit too close to Danny’s thigh. He’d told him not to touch himself, but that hardly counted.

Once he stops though, Danny finishes and puts the bottle back down, and settles between his thighs again. He kisses the head of Tim’s cock, letting one of those fingers circle his rim and gently pushes in as he lowers his mouth back down. His pace is much slower now, wanting to drag it out and ensure Tim’s prepared. Tim’s not a stranger to anal, and is fighting his own growing impatience. It wasn’t often he was on the receiving end of edging, and while in theory he knew the payoff was nice, it fucking sucked in the moment.

The stutter of his hips is obvious to Danny, but all he does is deliberately slow down further, only offering one more finger to fuck Tim with. His pace is agonizingly gentle.

Tim doesn’t even realize he’s pleading again until he feels the rewards of it. Danny speeds up just so, his mouth still set at a slower pace, while he gives more emphasis to opening Tim up. It’s a complete reversal to earlier, and it’s difficult to say whether it’s some form of bizarre payback Danny’s devised to get back at him for trying to deny him this when they both want it or something else. More likely, it was the former—Tim had never denied him anything before.

As Danny breaches him with the third finger, he pulls his mouth off and instead watches him intently.

Tim is so close, but also he wants more than this and obediently says so. He’s never wanted anything more in this moment than his brother inside him as close as he can possibly be. It’s taking everything he has not to come when he feels those fingers brush his prostate, when his brother revels in how hot he feels twitching around him.

Danny only pulls away entirely when Tim manages to articulate that he needs his brother to fuck him. He’s breathing heavily and barely paying attention when his brother slips off the bed and works at getting the harness on. Part of him wants to watch, but he knows himself too well and if he doesn’t calm down he won’t last two minutes. He refuses to let this end that quickly.

Eventually, in what could have been an hour, but in actuality probably ten minutes, Danny is nudging him to spread his thighs and lifting one of them to better position the head of the dildo.

“Ready?” Danny asks, revealing how heavily their activities had been affecting him. Tim’s relieved by it though and nods, not trusting his voice to stay steady.

He’s slow as he pushes in, but doesn’t hesitate or start giving shallow thrusts immediately. Danny takes his time until he’s flush against Tim, his thighs unconsciously moving to better wrap around him. They stay like that, and Tim leans up just slightly to meet Danny who had been coming closer for a kiss. It’s enough in this moment to pretend like everything is fine, and they’re not who they are to each other, like Tim is still human.

Like he hasn’t somehow ruined his little brother.

“Please,” Tim mutters so close, another plea for forgiveness buried in his throat and swallowed by a moan as Danny moves.

“You’re—ah, hot again. It’s nice,” Danny breathes by his cheek, leaving tiny kisses in his wake. Tim doesn’t know how to answer, he’s been told not to apologize, and he just wants to be smothered. So he wraps his arms around his brother and stops pretending like he could ever have let him go. 

**Author's Note:**

> i took a lot of liberties with the way desolation powers work because it's been more aptly said they control heat and not necessarily fire? also since it's connected directly to destruction of loved things and seemingly focused in negative emotions it made sense for a newly fledged monster tim to struggle controlling it when his self depreciation started to get out of hand.
> 
> anyway, i hope you enjoyed!


End file.
